Search Hold

With brisk steps, you stride down the same aisle as Umesh. The racks tower over you, stacked full of all the many supplies the UMC and the League had brought in. The station supplied many of the items they needed, but no one felt comfortable relying on it to provide all of their food or water (not to mention technology). Besides, there were trading opportunities with the Jellies now . . . assuming the League could find anything the aliens were interested in bartering for.

On the day Umesh visited the hold, there had been half-a-dozen people present. Workers, mostly, but also some of the League scientists, there to requisition this piece of equipment or that. Umesh could have been meeting with any one of them.

You’re not sure what you’re looking for, but you keep your eyes open, trying to take in every detail. Problem is, if Umesh had been meeting someone, you can’t imagine they would have been stupid enough to leave any sort of physical clue.

At the darkest part of the aisle, you stop and look around. Still nothing. Gah. Waste of time. You’ll check the next aisle over, for the sake of completeness, but you already know it’ll be a waste of time.

The equipment stored in this section is . . . You peer at the labeling on the huge metal boxes stacked one atop another. Water reclamation units. Thrilling. But then, as you turn to leave, a patch of white between two boxes catches your eye.

Hmm. Leaning in, you see a shape that at first you can’t recognize. Then your perception shifts, and the white resolves into . . . a double helix against a clenched fist. The logo is printed on another of the ubiquitous metal boxes, only this is at least twice the size of the ones in the front.

A prickle runs the back of your neck, and you grin with the thrill of unexpected victory. Yes! Having a hunch pay off never gets old. Now, you just have to find out where the logo came from, who the cargo was registered to, and what the hell all of this had to do with Umesh. Even if the Jellies did kill him, it’s looking more and more likely that at least one human was involved.

You start to move the boxes aside.

Bang!

A burst of molten sparks erupts from the box next to your head, and you feel a pulse of superheated air. A blaster. Someone just shot at you with a blaster.

You twist around, dropping into a crouch.